


The Gathering Storm

by Synthetic_Soul



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synthetic_Soul/pseuds/Synthetic_Soul
Summary: A drabble written for the Overwatch Rarepairs week 2018.  Featuring art by Asynfulsoul.Day one's prompt: Perseverance.





	The Gathering Storm

“Oh come now.” Maximillien’s voice crooned silkily into Zenyatta’s ear, the warmth of his arms slipping around the other’s lithe form in a loose, fluid embrace. “You are in the perfect position to persuade your ‘glorious leader’ that slipping a good word about my organization into his accredited speech is the right thing to do.”

Thumb and forefinger pressed gently into the monk’s skin, giving his cheek an affectionate squeeze.  
-Zenyatta scoffed, discontented, trying to disentangle himself from the businessman’s hold. He was under no illusions as to what that oily demeanour meant. Nor why he’d sought Zenyatta out now, of all times. Ever gregarious and shrewd, that was Maximillien.

“Mondatta is neither naive nor blind to the truth. Neither am I. If I had known who or what you were the first day I met you I would never ha-”

“Never?” Maximillien interjected, soft, but direct, a way that commanded attention and left the recipient loathing how it silenced them so expertly. And with such dramatical flair, too. “Zenyatta, I’m hurt. Do you think so little of me?”

The monk sighed, finally managing to break away to pivot. Now facing the other, he raised a hand to knead at his temple, soothing away the rising tension with fingertips that felt cold to the touch.  
“You know I do not. But I cannot agree with your methods and it will not change the fact that Mondatta would never agree with your proposal, much less support it. I cannot help you, we cannot help you.”

Maximillien threw his hands up placating the monk. He knew when he was flogging a dead horse.  
“I see….”  
A brief pause was all it took to collect his swirling thoughts.  
“Very well, if it keeps the peace then I shall just have to accept the facts.” He said, stepping towards Zenyatta, the hard glint in his eyes having faded to little more than a dying ember.

He would cool his heels for tonight, but unbeknownst to his fleeting and suspicious lover, with the morning sunrise would come the perseverance this debacle truly required. Zenyatta’s assistance not withstanding.

He reached out one sharply-suited arm, long, slender fingertips, many ringed in platinum, ghosted down the column of dark flesh upon Zenyatta’s own.

“Now, perhaps I might steal you away for a while? I have a feeling you’re going to have your hands so full, you’ll have little time for impromptu rendezvous in the near future.”

Art by: [Asynfulsoul](https://asynfulsoul.tumblr.com/)


End file.
